


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder and Other Cliches

by carolyn_claire



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Multi, Romantic apocalypse, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolyn_claire/pseuds/carolyn_claire
Summary: It's the end of the world as they knew it, and some parts of it are pretty fine.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill, Samantha "Sam" Carter/Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder and Other Cliches

**Author's Note:**

> This is unabashed Jack/Daniel romance (and Sam, too, eventually) from 2004 that was originally meant to be set in Katie_M's wonderful "In the Wrong Story" apocalyptic universe but then veered off on its own tangent. Here, the Goa'uld have conquered and occupied Earth without entirely destroying it, and these three have ended up as part of the resistance, holed up together in a tiny rural community with slightly limited resources and not as much angst as you might expect. The focus was on the romance and not the apocalypse, though that would have been fleshed out enough to justify it as a setting if I'd finished the story, which I didn't. The sex scenes would have eventually included Sam, but at this point we only see her off on a trip in the beginning, leaving the guys to get it on alone, though her presence is felt pretty strongly throughout. I had forgotten I'd written this until I found it recently, and I enjoyed re-reading it enough to want to keep it somewhere safe along with some other favorites. It works as an interlude, I think, if the world they're living in is taken as a given.

***

 _Absence makes the heart grow fonder._

Jack set the loaded pack down on the porch and stretched, arms overhead, hands clasped, as he yawned. The view out over the yard and into the open field across the highway was misty-blue and serene in the pre-dawn light, peaceful and kind of beautiful. He'd rather have been in bed. Early starts after late nights were much less his thing, these days, than they had been once upon a time. Dawn was for chickens, and that stupid, loud-mouthed rooster. Roosters were good stewed, he'd heard. A little rosemary, some pepper.

In the living room, dimly visible through the screen door, Daniel and Carter stood wrapped up in each other. Daniel was looking into her eyes, his forehead pressed against hers, arms looped around her waist. Jack smiled--that look was the big guns, and it worked for Daniel more often than not. Wasn't going to today, though.

Carter's voice was calm, a little wheedling, meant to be persuasive. "We'll be fine. Jim's an ex-Marine as well as a communications tech, and Steven was Corps of Engineers. They--"

"Don't know Jaffa, or staff weapons, or--"

"But I do. And they've been thoroughly briefed, so they know more than you did when you first met up with Ra's forces."

"I had Jack." They both turned their heads and looked out onto the porch where Jack stood watching. 

He waggled his fingers at them, feeling a little awkward, and turned away to look across the weedy, dew-slick grass again as a bright sliver of sun broke over the horizon. He should mow the yard in the next day or two, except he hadn't cleaned the blades after the last time, and they'd be all gunky, now. Push mowers sucked.

The voices had dropped to soft murmurs, and Jack walked down the steps and into the yard, putting a little distance between himself and the drama. He'd said his goodbyes already, letting his own eyes tell her the things he knew didn't need to be said out loud. "Don't go" wasn't one of them; "Come back" was.

Jim's battered green station wagon, utilitarian and nondescript, slowed at the entrance to their driveway and turned in. Jack watched it approach, its tires rumbling over the gravel, and waved to the man behind the wheel, then turned to look toward the house nearest to them, several hundred feet away. A woman stood watching from the concrete front steps, the skirt of her blue nightgown swaying against her legs in the morning breeze--Jim's wife. When she saw him looking, she turned and went inside, one hand held to her face. There were difficult goodbyes being said in a number of living rooms, this morning.

As the driver's door of the wagon opened, the screen door behind him squeaked, then banged shut. There was a rustle from the porch and then Carter was beside him, her pack in her hands. She leaned against his arm, watching Jim as he walked up the path toward them.

"All set?" 

"Ready." She handed Jim the pack, then turned to look at Jack as he carried it away to stow in the back of the wagon. They reached for each other's hands at the same time, her right in his left, and she smiled at him. "You two be good."

"Aren't we always?" She laughed and rolled her eyes, a little damp and shiny, at him. He didn't grab her and pull her to him or bury his face in her hair and breathe her in, though the effort it took not to hurt like a zat to the chest. "We'll be okay. You be okay, too." 

She nodded quickly, blinking a few times, then pressed a quick kiss onto his lips, closed-mouthed but firm, possessive.

He let himself touch her face, imprinting the feel of her skin on his fingertips one more time, then stepped back when the hatchback slammed. She squeezed his fingers and let go of his hand, backing away a few steps before turning and walking around to the passenger side of the car.

Jim looked from Jack to Daniel. "We'll take good care of her."

"Actually, she'll take good care of you." Jack grinned at him, but his eyes were on Carter as she climbed into the car and rolled her window down.

"You're probably right." Jim glanced toward his own house and the empty porch, then back at Jack. "So. See you in three weeks."

"See you." Jack watched him climb into the car and adjust things--mirrors, seat belt, visor--then take a sip from a shiny stainless travel mug as Sam pointed to something on the map she was holding. He nodded, put his drink down, backed around in a half-circle and then rolled out onto the highway. In less than a minute they were over the slight rise to the west and out of sight.

The sun was fully up, now, burning off the dew and warming Jack's face. He turned to the porch where Daniel stood, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the crest of the rise. "You know," he started, walking slowly back to the house, "everyone on that team has skills they're going to need to get the radio network set up. 'Babysitter' wasn't on the job list." 

"We have more experience dealing with Jaffa patrols than anyone on the planet." Daniel stood his ground at the top of the stairs, not stepping back to let Jack climb them and join him. 

"The idea is to not have to put that particular skill to use. Several of those guys are ex-military, and Carter has all the know-how they need to deal with surprises. They'll keep out of trouble, get the job done, and come home. And we have things to do here, in the meantime."

Daniel looked down at him from the top step, his eyes narrowed, his mouth a hard line--his 'you don't get it' expression, one of Jack's least favorite. "You realize you wouldn't even have considered letting her do this without us six months ago." He watched Jack's face closely; when Jack didn't answer, he turned away and walked into the house, the screen door closing with an accusatory slap behind him.

No, he probably wouldn't have, six months ago. But a lot had changed since then.

***

_The way to a man's heart is through his stomach._

"You going to eat that?"

Daniel looked up at him, then down, following the direction of Jack's gaze down to the last few pieces of venison on his plate. "I was thinking about it, yes." 

"Are you going to think about it, or are you going to eat it?" Jack gestured at the plate. "It's getting cold."

Daniel frowned, stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and brought it to his mouth with a small flourish. His jaw muscles flexed as he chewed hard, one side of his face remaining visible to Jack from behind his raised book. His right hand held his fork protectively over his plate as he read.

"I just didn't want it to go to waste, is all." 

Without looking, Daniel stabbed another piece of meat and ate it in the same exaggerated, exasperated manner.

Jack sighed, looked down at his own empty plate, pushed it away from him and canted his chair back against the wall. He raised one booted foot, then the other, to rest on the tabletop, crossing his legs at the ankles.

One blue eye glared at him around the edge of Daniel's book. "Sam doesn't like it when you do that."

Jack tilted his head to one side, then the other. Vertebrae popped like firecrackers. "When she gets back, you can tell on me." 

The eye rolled at him, then disappeared behind the book again. 

The single bulb in the fixture hanging over their heads cast long shadows across the table, making spread wings from the open pages of Daniel's book. Jack poked at his plate, then picked up his fork and began to tap with it, testing the variations in tone produced by the Formica tabletop, his plate, his empty water glass. He threw a little syncopation in there, just to make it interesting. 

Daniel slapped his book shut and stood, pushed his plate across the table, glared at Jack and stomped out of the room. 

Jack looked after him for a moment, then down at Daniel's plate where the juices were beginning to congeal around the remaining chunks of meat. "Well, now it's cold."

The front door slammed.

***

_A horse is a camel designed by a committee._

"People, could I have your attention, please?" The irritated little man with the gavel frowned over the heads of the group sitting in front of him toward Jack and Daniel as they walked into the high-school gym. Great, they'd only just gotten there and they were already in trouble. 

"Sorry." Daniel smiled apologetically up at Dave as he dropped into a front-row seat next to Horace Weeks, the grocery-store owner and perishable supplies manager. Jack sidestepped past the knees of two women in shorts, one row behind Daniel, and sat down heavily. He hoped he didn't smell. 

"We were out in the yard, we lost track of time." Daniel made mowing gestures, and Jack suppressed a smile. 

The mayor, still frowning, gestured back at him with his gavel. "We've opened the floor to comments about somebody going to Ada and feeling the people there out about any cells they might have."

"If they had a resistance effort going, wouldn't we have heard about it by now?" The woman on Jack's left looked over at him as if for confirmation.

"Why? They haven't heard about us." Horace turned around in his chair to face her. 

"I hope to God not." Nancy Weeks, the thin, tired-looking woman sitting next to Horace, shook her head as she spoke. Horace patted her arm. 

A man a row or two behind Jack raised his voice to be heard above the restless sounds of the three-dozen or so people echoing through the gym. "We go to Ada, we die. They'll report on us and we'll all end up--"

Across the isle, a college-aged young man in a Flogging Molly t-shirt--Alex, Jim's nephew--stood up. "We sit around and do nothing and they'll be here, next, taking people away. We can't do anything to help anybody else, or even ourselves, just sitting here waiting for them to come. I'll go." He crossed his arms over his chest. 

His girlfriend, Kelly, stood up next to him. "Ada's a lot bigger than we are. They'll have resources we don't. We need their help."

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, and several voices were raised at once in disagreement or assent. The mayor tapped at his music-stand podium with the gavel again. "People, one at a time, please."

"I think--" Daniel shifted, then stood up in front of his chair and turned to face the room. "I think we'll know better how to proceed with that once Jim's team gets back. As important as it is to make contact with other groups, my feeling is that we should wait." Jack knew that to speak of it as Jim's team, rather than Sam's, was kind of galling for Daniel, and he gave him a mental pat on the back for it. He glanced across the room at Jim's wife, Holly, and smiled when he caught her eye. 

A woman at the far end of the row raised her hand tentatively. "Is Ada even on their route?" 

Daniel shook his head. "No, the heavier enemy presence there rules that out, for now. But they should pick up a great deal of information about other resistance cells from the communities they do visit. They may hear something about activity in Ada, if there's anything to hear."

A number of people were nodding; Daniel's naturally persuasive personal style often worked a kind of consensus-building voodoo on the locals. He'd probably end up mayor. Jack found him kind of fascinating, himself.

"What's the hurry? It's not like we can fight." From behind Jack, Mary Turner's words, spoken in her low, rough monotone, brought a sudden hush to the room; probably everyone there was related to someone who'd tried to do just that and had never come back. Mary's husband had been one of them.

"There's fighting, and then there's fighting. There's a lot we can do to help ourselves, now, before we pick up a weapon. And we're doing it, as we can," Daniel glanced over at Alex, perched on the edge of his chair, now, one leg bouncing in anxious rhythm, "but we need to be sure of our path, take it one step at a time." Daniel's eyes scanned the room, lingering on the seats behind Jack's for a moment. "We could lose more than we gain if we don't."

The murmuring began again, but more quietly, less agitated. From behind him, Jack heard a soft gasp, then another. 

"I think we're agreed, then, that any more talk of Ada will wait until after Jim's team gets back and reports on the response to the radio net and whatever news they've picked up." Dave nodded to Daniel, who'd returned to his seat. No one disagreed. "Let's get on with business, then. Tom, I think you had something to say to us about the electric usage for last month."

From the front row of seats on the opposite side, a stout, sunburned man in a blue button-down shirt rose ponderously to his feet. From behind Jack, the gasps had turned into sobs, and a woman's voice murmured in soft counterpoint to them. Daniel turned to meet Jack's eyes, then looked past him, over his shoulder.

"We went over our power allotment for last month again." Tom faced the group and frowned around the room. "We talked about this before. I told you people, if we do this again we're going to get cut off before the end of next month, or get our allotment lowered permanently. I hear," he intoned, with real wrath-of-God overtones, "that some of you have been running air conditioners. I'm not going to go into who--"

"It's hard for the kids to sleep without air conditioning. Hell, it's hard for me to sleep without it." A woman across the isle spoke up without standing. "And Kevin got sick. What are we supposed to do when they're sick?"

Daniel slipped out of his seat and around the outside of the group of folding chairs, behind Jack and out of sight. Rubber-capped chair legs squeaked against the wood floor, and then Daniel's low voice spoke into the spaces between the soft sobs.

"People managed for a lot of years before air conditioning. A little heat won't kill you."

"A lotta heat will, and so will no sleep."

The sounds from behind him were beginning to subside, mercifully, unlike the cold, sympathetic pressure behind Jack's breastbone. So much to be borne, to be adapted to and to come to terms with; so much lost, already. And, yet, so much still to lose. He tried to follow the argument of the moment, to consider sick kids and hot nights and not think about Carter, out there somewhere with people who weren't him, weren't Daniel. What he mostly thought about, though, was the way her blonde hair turned dark where sweat slicked it to her neck, her forehead, about the dampness between her breasts when he lowered his head to taste her there, and the heat rising from both their bodies in the darkened bedroom, on the night before she left.

***

_A stitch in time saves nine._

"Wasn't it like that already?" Whenever Daniel tried to look more closely at what Jack was doing, the flashlight's beam slid off to one side. 

"Not pumping water? No, I don't think so." Jack grimaced up at Daniel. "Would you hold the light steady?"

"Sorry." Daniel focused the beam on Jack's hands again. "I think Sam set it up that way to--" 

"It doesn't make sense this way. This should connect right here, see? I think this is the part where--" A section of pipe came away in Jack's hand and a small stream of water geysered up through his fingers and onto his shirt. Daniel slapped down the breaker on the electrical box, and the stream sank and dribbled away.

"I think this is the part where we get Jerry to solder the pipe back together." Daniel raised the flashlight's beam to illuminate his smirk, then stood and walked back toward the house. 

Jack rose and followed him, his right forefinger held to his mouth. In the kitchen, Daniel set the flashlight on the counter. "It could have waited for Sam." 

"I don't like peeing in the yard." Jack licked copper from his lips as he looked down at his finger.

Daniel frowned and stepped quickly toward him, his hands outstretched. "What did you do?" He took Jack's wrist gently in one hand and turned it palm-up, catching falling drops of blood with his other. "You cut yourself." He stepped backwards toward the sink, pulling Jack along with him, flipped open the tap, then stared at it for a moment when nothing happened. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Just a minute." Daniel hurried away, one hand cupped in front of him. 

Jack stood over the sink and let his finger drip, watching pinkish-red flowers form from one drop at a time on the white porcelain, then roll slowly toward the drain. Daniel came back with a towel, a bottle of alcohol and a worried expression. 

"Was the pipe rusted?"

"That would be why it broke." Jack drew a quick breath as the alcohol ran in a thin, cool stream across the cut. "My last tetanus booster was three years ago. It's still good."

"Yeah, well." Daniel capped the bottle, then pulled a couple of Band-Aids out of his jeans pocket. They looked at the small strips, at the cut in Jack's finger, and then at each other. 

"Duct tape?" Jack offered.

Daniel shook his head. "Stitches."

"You hurt when you do it!" Jack made a grab for the Band-Aids.

Daniel let him have them and went back to the bathroom. By the time he returned, a roll of fine monofilament in one hand and a needle in the other, blood was smeared on the counter, the towel, Jack's shirt, both of his hands and the soaked remains of the Band-Aids, lying in the sink. 

Daniel pointed at a chair. Jack glared, sighed, then set his jaw and sat down. Daniel sat beside him and threaded the needle.

"You can hardly feel it when Carter does it." Jack eyed the needle apprehensively.

"You get a lollipop if you're good." Daniel held out his hand. Jack hesitated, then placed his wounded one into it. Daniel held it for a moment, then said, softly, "I'll be careful." 

"I know," Jack said, and closed his eyes.

***

_A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou beside me._

Not that he'd been able to sleep, anyway, the way his finger was throbbing. Still, Daniel could have walked a little further away from the house to pee. He eyed the bottle of aspirin where it sat on his bedside table, next to the unopened can of beer--medicinal alcohol, he'd told Daniel when he'd set it there. Two trips into the yard to relieve himself, at least, was what it would actually be. He hadn't been thinking about the broken plumbing when he'd chosen the beer. Now it was warm.

Through his open window, he heard Daniel step up onto the porch. The screen door slapped shut, then the heavy oak door, and Daniel's booted feet approached down the hall. He stopped in Jack's doorway, wild-haired and bare-chested in the dim light, scratching at the back of his neck. Mosquitoes, an unavoidable hazard of using nature's facilities. 

"How's your hand?" Daniel gestured to where it lay propped on a pillow at Jack's side. 

"Hurts like a mother." Daniel made a sympathetic sound. "From the cut. The stitches are fine." Daniel really had tried to be gentle. Nobody had Carter's touch, though.

"You need some more aspirin?" Daniel walked into the moonlit room, embroidered patterns of shadow from the net curtains playing across his chest and shoulders. His jeans were half-unzipped, and as he sat on the side of the bed the edges of his fly spread open, revealing the trail of hair that thickened and widened as it disappeared into shadow. 

"Yeah." He watched as Daniel twisted off the childproof cap, shook out three pills and dropped them into Jack's open hand, then popped the top on the beer and handed it to him as Jack tossed the pills into his mouth. Jack took a few long swallows, paused for a breath and then took a few more. If he finished it, he could always pee in the empty can. There was no one here to complain, if he did.

When he lowered the can, Daniel was holding out his hand. Jack passed it to him and watched him tilt his head back and drink, his throat moving gently as he swallowed. 

Outside Jack's window crickets chirped, and the breeze that made the curtains move sighed through the trees at the edge of the yard. They passed the beer back and forth between them, drinking together in the semi-darkness until Daniel tipped is head way back to catch the last drops, then set the empty down next to the aspirin bottle. 

He smiled, a flash of white teeth in his shadowed face as he pushed the can across the table, closer to Jack, with one finger. "Now you won't have to go outside to pee."

"Just what I was thinking." Great minds plot alike, Jack thought as Daniel rose from the bed. Not everything about Carter being away sucked. Most things did.

"You need anything else?" Daniel seemed inclined to linger, one finger tracing an outline around Jack's hand where it lay on the pillow.

"No. Thanks. I'm good."

"Okay." Daniel nodded at him. "See you in the morning." He stroked the side of Jack's hand once, up and down, and then leaned down and kissed him softly, quickly, on the lips. He pulled away almost before Jack could respond, and then he was walking out of the room, fingertips skimming down the length of Jack's leg, off the tip of his toes, out the door and down the hall.

Jack let his head settle back into the pillow. Warmth spread from the beer in his stomach, up his body to meet the tingle of heat on his lips, flowed down across his groin to the trail of Daniel's touch along his leg, a glow of sensation that felt like light where Daniel's fingers had passed.

***

_Children should be seen and not heard._

"That should hold you." Jerry stood, tools in one hand and visor in the other, and nodded down at the well piping. "I'd leave it alone until Samantha gets back. Borrow your water from next door." He looked out at the two men and the little auburn-haired girl watching him through the pump-house door. 

"Thanks, Jerry." Daniel looked sideways at Jack. "We will." Jack flashed a quick glare at him.

"Strangest plumbing set-up I ever saw. Couldn't say what's stopped your water. Piece of something in the line, maybe." The three spectators stepped back from the doorway as Jerry ducked and walked through sideways, angling his soldering iron away from them.

"I was thinking," Jack started. Daniel gave him a look that said 'don't' more plainly than words. Jack pretended not to see it. "If we bypassed that…thingy, and rerouted the lower pipe directly into-"

"I wouldn't." Jerry dropped his gear into the back of his truck. "I wouldn't touch it until she gets home." 

Daniel cleared his throat. "We won't. Thanks again." Ignoring Jack's frown, he smiled and waved as Jerry backed carefully across the lawn onto the drive, then roared toward the road. 

"And we won't, why, exactly?" Jack tried to loom a little.

Daniel eyed him, unimpressed. "Because we don't know what we're doing, as we so ably demonstrated already."

"Sure we do. We're men; we plumb. We don't need Carter for everything." Jack gestured through the open door at the nest of pipes inside. "It's not rocket science, it's pipes and faucets. Water goes from pump A to house B-"

"Not at the moment, it doesn't." 

"My point, exactly." Jack held up his bandaged finger in an inappropriately triumphant gesture, considering. "We have no water, and we have no Carter. So it falls on us to-"

"Jerry took his tools with him. What're you going to 'plumb' with, actual plums?" Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"If I have to." Jack loomed a little harder. Daniel's other eyebrow joined the first.

"Sam said she made it this way to increase the water pressure without reducing the flow rate. But sometimes air gets in the line. If you do this," their little spectator padded barefoot into the well house, turned a series of valves, waited a few seconds, then turned them back, "it lets out the air and the water will run." She slipped through the door again and stood on the cement pad with them, her narrow little face expectant.

Jack looked at her for a moment, then walked around to the side of the shed and turned on the wall spigot. Air hissed and spit and then water flowed in a gratifying stream into the bucket sitting on the ground below. He watched it for a few seconds, turned it off, and looked from Daniel to the girl and back again.

Daniel was smiling down at her. "Thank you. That's very helpful."

Jack blinked at her. "How old are you, Lisa?" 

"I'm nine. I'll be ten in October." Lisa tilted her head and looked at each of them in turn. "You can come to my party." 

"We'd like that." Daniel couldn't seem to stop smiling.

"I have to have lunch, now." She gave them a little wave and started off across the lawn toward her home, then stopped and turned around. "Tell Sam to come over when she gets back." She smiled at them and trotted away.

Daniel looked at Jack's face and started to laugh. "She's over here a lot."

"Yeah, well, so am I." Jack glared at the pipes, reached in to snap off the light and pulled the door shut, only a little more forcefully than was necessary.

Still chuckling, Daniel patted his back as they walked back to the house. "Maybe Lisa will draw you a schematic. At her party."

***

_Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof._

"This is good." Daniel scooped the last of the hash off his plate and into his mouth as he looked inquiringly into the pot on the table between them. 

Jack reached out to upend the bowl over Daniel's plate. "That's one thing I can do without Carter's help, anyway." 

Daniel chewed thoughtfully. "You do this better without her help, actually. And you can do a lot of things. Things that don't involve plumbing." 

"Ha ha." Jack stacked the bowl on his plate and picked both up with his right hand, wincing a little to mine some retaliatory sympathy points. Daniel's quick, worried frown made him wish he hadn't. 

"Hurt much?"

"Not so much." Poor Daniel, he was too easy a mark. "You can help me re-wrap it, later," he offered, just to see the anxious squint change to an earnest nod. The man had a good heart, aside from the occasional pissy fit. Couldn't cook worth a damn, though.

"So, Thursday night, maybe." Daniel's voice was casual in that deliberate way he had when he was trying not to seem worried. It would have been sort of endearing if Jack weren't so nervous and trying not to show it, himself. You could jinx things by talking about them too much, or worrying about them out loud.

"Maybe." Jack glanced at the calendar as he shifted a few things around on the countertop to make room for more dishes. Having running water again meant washing yesterday's leftovers as well as today's. He'd feel obliged to offer to help, yesterday having been his day, but he had an out, now, throbbing away on his right hand. He could probably get out of drying, too. Or maybe they should get Lisa to do it. She could probably install a dishwasher for them.

"There's a good chance, if everything really is happening on schedule." 

Jack turned to lean against the cabinets. Daniel was flicking the last of his hash around on his plate with his fork. He watched Daniel's lowered eyelids as he spoke. "There's a very good chance. But if she's not back Thursday night, that doesn't mean--"

"No, I know. I just…" He looked up into Jack's eyes. "I hope she is."

Her absence was wearing on Jack, too--the absence of her smile, her awful singing in the shower, her scary competency, her touch. So much to miss. 

"So do I." Jack reached for Daniel's plate with his left hand and shook it over the garbage before dropping it into the sink. He'd offer to dry.

***

_A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush._

"It'll be good to have them back. I hope they were successful, but, either way, I just want Jim home. Three weeks is too long." Lisa's mom sipped her tea. The sunset from the porch was breathtaking, as always, spreading glowing ribbons of orange and purple and vermilion in vibrant, kaleidoscopic streaks and pastel washes across the western sky; the end of the world as rendered in oils.

"So do we. Sam, I mean. And Jim. Everybody." The ice in Daniel's empty glass tinkled.

Holly nodded at them. "I bet the two of you miss her a lot, a couple of men fending for yourselves."

"We manage." Daniel turned his head and smiled at Jack. "Jack's a great cook."

"And a lousy plumber." Jack's answering smile widened when Daniel's shoulder nudged his.

"I heard about that." Holly chuckled. "Lisa's become Samantha's protégé, apparently. Follows her around like a puppy." 

"Not a bad idea, actually. I should do that more, myself." Jack drank the melted ice water from his glass, then swirled the remaining cubes around the bottom.

Daniel stood and held out his hand. "Refill?" Jack handed the glass to him but shook his head, and Daniel turned to their guest. "Holly?" 

"No, thank you. I should get home, see if Lisa's had her bath. If I leave her alone in the house too long, there's no telling what I'll find. We have an automatic dog waterer, now." She laughed, but her smile was proud.

"She's a great kid." Jack stood when she did, nodding his "goodnight" to her along with Daniel's as she stepped down from the porch and across the lawn into the deepening twilight. A few stars were visible now, twinkling counterpoint to the growing darkness spreading toward the west. Daniel carried the glasses into the house as Jack stood on the porch and watched the stars come out, one by one. 

Daniel's voice behind him made him look back over his shoulder. The other man was a dim form behind the screen door; he hadn't turned the kitchen light on. "Come inside. I need you for something."

"As long as it doesn't involve plumbing, I'm your man." Jack smiled crookedly as Daniel backed out of the doorway to let him in. 

"Well, I suppose, in a way, it does. Still…." Jack could hear more than see Daniel's smile. His eyebrows rose a little when Daniel took his hand and tugged on it, stepping backwards again as he pulled Jack forwards. Jack hesitated for a moment, but only to push the door shut behind him and flip the night latch.

Light spilled down the hall from Daniel's bedroom. Jack followed him, his hand still caught in Daniel's, but stopped just outside the door. When Daniel pulled again, gently, he stepped through, watching the other man thoughtfully. They didn't do this all that often.

Daniel eased him back against the wall, just inside the bedroom door, and leaned into him. He watched Jack's face for a moment, his gaze traveling from eyes to lips to throat and back again, then reached up to touch, his fingers following the same path, exploring but not urging, not pushing. He never pushed; he didn't have to. 

"We don't need Sam for everything," he murmured softly, as though they weren't the only two people in the house. His fingers skimmed Jack's jaw as he watched Jack's face. When Jack didn't answer, he leaned in closer, his lips barely touching Jack's, hovering but not pressing, leaving room, as he always did, for the 'no' that never happened, not once in all this time.

"Guess not," Jack whispered against his mouth, and Daniel sank into him, his hand cupping the side of Jack's face as Jack's hand slid up under the hem of his shirt and caressed the warm skin of his back. When Jack's mouth opened under his, he felt along the wall next to Jack's shoulder for the light switch and flicked it off.

***

_A man is known by the company he keeps._

"Jack! How're you doing, you sonovabitch?" 

"Pretty good, Ervin. Pretty damn good." Jack grinned and slapped the shoulder of the smiling man pumping his hand. "Yourself?" 

"Can't complain. Usually do, though." Ervin chuckled and let go of Jack's hand. "Don't get to town too much, these days, but that's because the farm's doing pretty well, so it's a blessing. You keeping busy? Making yourself useful?" 

"Oh, yeah. Very, very useful." Jack smiled down at the pile of groceries on the counter next to him.

"Stuck doing the shopping, I see. Aren't they all supposed to be getting back soon?"

"Tonight, if things are running on schedule, which they were when they radioed in last week. Everything seems to be working in their favor."

"Weather's been good for it. Just enough rain for growing things, but no storms. Traveling around is tricky, these days." Ervin shook his tufty head and rubbed at his grey-stubbled chin. "But the radio network will be a great thing, if it works out. There's folks out there don't know which end is up, probably."

"They'll know once Sam tells them." Jack smiled, almost embarrassed by how proud he was of her.

"She's quite a woman, your missus." Ervin thumped Jack firmly on the back again. "Gotta get moving. You all come out to see us soon, don't be such strangers." 

"We will," Jack promised as Ervin shifted the box in his left arm and turned to head out. "Same applies."

Ervin raised a hand in acknowledgement before pushing through the glass door, the little bell jingling over his head. Jack turned to the woman behind the counter, busily bagging his items, and pulled out his wallet. 

"Thanks for bringing the bags. I'm almost out, again." She nodded at the well-used K-Mart bag she was stuffing.

"No problem." Jack handed her items until it was filled. "I was lucky to get here right after Ervin, today. The vegetables look good."

"Planning a big welcome-home dinner?" The sloe-eyed brunette held a hand out for the coupons, then turned and added them to the stack in the drawer under the register.

"Something like that." Jack pocketed the wallet and gathered up one bag in his arm. 

"I don't suppose we'll be seeing the three of you in here for a few days." Her smile was gently teasing, a little sly. 

Jack chose to deliberately misunderstand, thankful that he didn't blush easily. "No, I think I have everything." He gathered up the other bag and took a step back, grabbing a third by its handles.

Her smiled broadened. "You certainly do." 

Jack smiled weakly at her chuckle, managed a clumsy wave around the bags and walked as quickly as was seemly out into the parking lot. Daniel was just pulling in, to his relief. He dropped the bags into the back of the truck, next to the toolbox, and climbed inside.

"I could only get five gallons; they're still waiting for the truck. One pump is closed." When Jack didn't answer, Daniel looked at him sideways, his eyes lingering a moment on Jack's half-smile. "What's funny?"

"Nothing." Jack smirked at him. "Except that Consuela the checker still wants me, bad." 

Daniel snorted. "She can't have you. Your dance card's pretty full, already." He didn't look at Jack again, but his smile was warm and possibly, Jack thought, reminiscent.

"Oh, I think she knows that." Daniel flipped on the turn signal. Jack looked away, fixing his gaze straight ahead through the windshield. "I think pretty much everybody does."

Daniel was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was doing that casual, deliberate thing. "That bother you?" 

Jack watched the broken yellow lines on the highway as they approached and disappeared on Daniel's side of the truck. "No, not really. You?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Daniel shake his head. "Not if it doesn't bother you." 

Jack shrugged. "Well, it doesn't. So I guess we're good." 

"I guess we are." 

They rode the rest of the way home in companionable silence.

***

_Boys will be boys._

"I didn't think it was this bad. But now that I look at it--"

"It's kind of bad." Daniel looked around the living room at the littered tables and unswept floor. "Are we slobs?" 

"The evidence points that way." Jack looked over his shoulder into the kitchen, then turned back to the living room. One problem at a time. "I refuse to believe it's because we're men without a woman in the house. That would be such a cliché."

"Sam doesn't clean that much, either." Daniel frowned down at a piece of paper on the floor by his foot, then up at Jack. "Does she? Does Sam clean up after us?"

"I think it's cleaning fairies. The ones mothers tell us don't exist." Jack picked up a half-full basket of laundry and started toward his bedroom.

"Someone forgot to pay ours," Daniel called after him as he bent to pick up the paper. 

Jack walked back in, empty-handed. "Hey, wasn't me--I'm accounts receivable."

Daniel smiled. "You want the kitchen, or the living room?"

"You better take the kitchen. I need to keep this dry." Jack held up his bandaged finger. 

"Okay." Daniel nodded and walked into the kitchen, crumpling the paper in his hand as he went. Jack watched him go, blinking in surprise. Well, that was easy. He could probably get a lot of mileage out of this finger thing.

His self-congratulatory moment was interrupted by the squeak of the refrigerator door and the pop and hiss of a can being opened. He stepped through the doorway to see Daniel at the fridge, busily swallowing beer. 

"Good idea." Jack started toward him. 

Daniel held up a hand, palm out, that stopped him where he stood, then pointed at the room beyond Jack's shoulder. "Beer's in here. You're working in there."

Jack stared at him, then laughed. "That's not…a thing. We never said that was a thing."

"I have possession of the kitchen. And the beer. Sorry." Daniel stood in front of the refrigerator and leaned back against it, defiance in the jut of his hip, the set of his shoulders. He smiled, then took another sip. 

Jack's eyes narrowed, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Oh, this was interesting. Letting himself be drawn into Daniel's game, he began to walk slowly toward him. "You think you can keep me out of there?"

Daniel smirked. "I don't think, I know." 

Daniel's smile was almost…dirty. No, it was, it was definitely dirty, and Jack was willing to bet that spot he was rubbing on his upper thigh didn't itch, at all. He approached Daniel carefully, eyeing the other man thoughtfully. Either last night's fire was still burning, or Daniel really didn't feel like cleaning. Or maybe the Consuela thing was making him feel a little territorial. That could be fun.

Still smiling, Daniel set his beer down on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin when Jack stopped in front of him. "Think you can take me?" The double-entendre was bad enough; the voice made Jack's pulse trip.

"Oh, I don't think. I remember." Jack reached out and rested his palms on the freezer door, one on either side of Daniel's head. "Last chance to save your ass." 

Daniel licked his lips. "Save it for whom?" 

No mistaking it; that really was a dirty, dirty grin, and Jack gladly gave in to its invitation. As he moved to grab Daniel's shoulders, Daniel twisted and drove into Jack's chest, knocking him back into the table. Off balance, Jack grabbed for him again, hoping to pull the other man underneath him and onto its speckled Formica surface. Daniel laughed and caught one of Jack's wrists in his hand, rolling with him against the table's edge and knocking a chair off its legs with a crash. Jack countered by wrapping his other arm around Daniel's waist, sweeping him around in a kind of tango move and landing on top of him on the table, grinning triumphantly. 

Beneath him, Daniel's eyes were heavy-lidded and warm, his mouth open, and he pushed up against Jack eagerly when Jack ground his hips down against Daniel's. The table creaked, and Daniel gasped at the scrape of Jack's teeth on his throat as he struggled, just enough to make Jack want to bite down, hard.

A knock at the back door stopped them both, mid-grapple.

"Hello?"

Jack stood quickly, adjusting his clothing with one hand and pulling Daniel to his feet with the other. As he turned toward the door, he felt Daniel trying to pet his cowlick down in back. He did a little finger combing, himself, took a calming breath and reached for the doorknob.

Holly stood on the porch, one hand raised to knock again, the other holding a long, flat Tupperware box. She blinked at Jack, looked past him where Daniel leaned against the table, then down at the chair lying on the floor. "I brought cake." 

Daniel bent down and picked up the chair. "We were cleaning," he started.

"I was getting a beer," Jack added, then cleared his throat.

Holly grinned at them both, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Would you come clean my house, next? I'll supply the beer." 

Jack smiled down at her as he stepped back to let her in. No wonder she had such a great kid.

She walked to the table and set the box down. "I thought you might like something nice with dinner, tonight. If they get back in time. Or in the morning, for breakfast. Cake's not much different than doughnuts, really." 

Daniel was smiling at her, too, one hand smoothing the back of his own hair. "Thank you, Holly. Sam will love it." 

"Yeah, thanks. A lot." Jack lifted the lid and peered inside. "Oh, chocolate-she'll definitely love it."

"Don't mention it." She waved their thanks lightly away and started for the door. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing. I have cleaning to do, too." She grinned at them as she slipped outside.

Alone again, they looked down at the cake and then up at each other. Jack thought Daniel looked as sheepish as he felt. "Well, that was embarrassing."

"I really like her." Still smiling a little, Daniel swiped one finger through the frosting on one side of the cake, then licked it off, slowly, his eyes fixed on Jack. "And I love her cake."

Jack closed his eyes. "Stop that. We have serious work to do, here." 

"Okay." Daniel shrugged, walked to the counter and picked up his beer, then toasted Jack with it. "I have the kitchen." 

Jack sighed, admitting defeat, and returned to the living room. 

***

_Hope springs eternal._

"We should probably go ahead and eat." Jack leaned against the doorjamb and watched Daniel watching fireflies from the back porch steps.

"Go ahead. I'm not really hungry." Daniel tilted his head back to look up at him, then turned away again.

Jack sighed. "Me neither. But, you know, there's cake." 

When Daniel didn't answer, Jack walked down the stairs and sat beside him. The sky above them was dense with stars without the glow of light pollution to obscure them; power was at a premium, and no one wanted to shine too brightly at night, call attention to themselves. The unblinking beacon he once might have called a satellite, slowly crossing the star field above them, told that story. There weren't any satellites, anymore. Not theirs, anyway.

"It may be morning before they get back. It may be later tomorrow." He looked over at Daniel's shadowed profile. The moon hadn't risen, yet.

Daniel didn't look at him. "It may be later than that, if something's happened."

Jack pressed his lips together, his mouth a tight, unhappy line. It was superstitious of him, he knew, but he really didn't want to hear those words spoken out loud. 

"I mean, for all we know--"

"Nothing's happened." That came out a little rougher than Jack had intended. He took a deep breath and tried again. "It was just a plan, not a cruise schedule. They're not touring the Bahamas out there."

"I know that." Daniel's voice in the dark was clipped, angry. "I know it's not a fucking cruise. That's the problem, actually."

Jack fought the urge to get up and go back inside, concern overriding annoyance. "I know. I get that." He hesitated, then reached out to lay a hand on Daniel's shoulder and squeeze it gently. "I'm sorry."

Daniel's shoulder hunched a bit under his touch, then relaxed. "I know. You're worried about her, too."

Jack's thumb stroked back and forth across the fabric of Daniel's shirt. "Not so much, yet. More hopeful. I hope they come back tonight and we don't have to spend the next few days going gray--grayer--waiting. That would be great. It's just a matter of when." 

Daniel nodded, the motion transferring itself through the muscles of his shoulder under Jack's warm hand. They sat there quietly for a few more minutes, then Daniel sighed, nodded again and stood. Jack could just make out Daniel's hand reaching down to him. 

"Dinner?"

"I could eat." Jack smiled and took his hand, let himself be pulled to his feet and followed Daniel into the house.

***

_A friend in need is a friend, indeed._

The night was too quiet; his breathing was too loud. The curtains hung motionless, no breeze to stir them, and the crickets had found someplace else to sing. There was a sort of breathless feeling in and around the house, a prickle of anticipation that kept waking Jack from fragments of unpleasant dreams. He was too warm, and his pillow wasn't comfortable, and it was too quiet. Almost.

Another rustle from the living room, and Jack couldn't stand it anymore. He rubbed at his face and then rolled out of bed, glanced around himself for something to put on, then decided against it, padding quietly out into the hallway in his boxers, instead. 

Out in the living room, Daniel stood silhouetted against the large front window, looking out into the night. With one hand he toyed with the draw-cord of the drapes, sliding them a few inches one way, then the other. He was watching the highway, damn him, waiting for headlights to turn down their drive. It was heartbreaking.

As he crossed the room, he scuffed his feet a little on the hardwood floor, announcing his approach. Daniel turned and looked at him, then turned back to the window, giving the cord in his hand a vicious tug. 

Jack stopped close behind him, almost touching him, and looked out over Daniel's shoulder into the darkness. Nothing moved, not a flicker of light or a breath of a breeze, for as far as he could see. "You'll make yourself crazy."

After a long moment, Daniel sighed and leaned back into him, his back warm against Jack's chest, and leaned his head against Jack's. "Already done that." 

He slid his arms around Daniel's waist, feeling the pent-up energy almost vibrating through him. "You'll make me crazy." 

Daniel almost-laughed, a single, staccato exhalation that flexed his stomach against Jack's hands. "Also too late." 

They stood that way for a while, listening to the silence from the empty highway, until Daniel turned and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Jack's shoulder. 

"I love her so much." Daniel's soft voice was swallowed by the quiet room.

Jack closed his eyes. "I know. Me, too."

The stillness had a sort of weight, a substance that surrounded them and held them in place, like amber. Daniel turned his head to bury his face in Jack's neck, breathing slowly and evenly through his mouth as Jack ran his fingers through Daniel's hair, carding and tufting it. When he tugged on it a little, Daniel raised his face and looked at him, then leaned in. The kiss was slow and easy, without heat, though Jack felt Daniel's body stir a little against him.

He ended it gently, his hand sliding down to cup the back of Daniel's neck, and looked into his face. Daniel watched him, the moonlight from the window behind him making shadowed hollows of his eyes, then leaned in again, this kiss a little harder, open-mouthed. His anxiety telegraphed itself through the press of his fingers on Jack's skin, the way they clutched at him. When Jack pulled away again, he laid his fingertips against Daniel's chest and eased him back, put a little space between them. 

"I can't stop thinking," Daniel murmured. He slid his hand up over Jack's and twined their fingers together. 

Jack nodded and clasped his hand in return. With the other, he reached up and smoothed Daniel's hair where his touch had ruffled it into twists and peaks, then dropped both hands to his sides and stepped away. 

It really wasn't a night for sleeping, and he was tired of trying.

"Come on." He gave a quick, sideways nod in the direction of the hallway and then turned and walked from the room. 

Daniel looked toward the empty highway again, still as a painting in the window's frame, gave the draw-cord one last tug, and followed him.

***

_Silence is golden._

"That's…oh. That's the spot." Daniel drew in a slow, deep breath, his ribs rising and falling under Jack's hands as they skillfully manipulated the taut muscles of his back. The wrist that he'd let slip between the rails of the headboard, above his pillow, stretched and flexed, fingertips brushing the wallpaper and then falling, limp, to dangle in the empty space between the bed and the wall. He hummed with pleasure, a thrum of satisfied vibration against Jack's palms.

Jack smiled. "Only one of my many talents." His thumbs worked deeply into the valleys running down either side of Daniel's spine, pressing and sliding along each vertebra in tandem. "Strong men wept when I joined the Air Force instead of turning pro."

"Men? Which men?" Daniel tried to look at him over his shoulder; Jack pushed his head back down onto the pillow.

"Strong men." Jack pressed his thumbs into the furrows beneath Daniel's shoulder blades, sliding in deep, and Daniel sighed. "You carry all your stress in your back--that's bad. You'll be all hunched over before you're fifty." Daniel moaned in reply, one foot rising a few inches off the bed. Jack grinned.

"I, ah, I want to hear more about these strong men." 

Jack had gone back to working the long muscles of Daniel's back, kneading them with his open hands. Daniel murmured his approval and stretched again, curves of light and shadow sliding in ripples and waves over his bones. 

"What about them?" Daniel's back, Jack decided, was a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Much time could be spent in its contemplation. Sonnets could be involved.

"Um. How many?" 

"Oh, you know. A few." This was the last thing Jack had expected they'd be talking about tonight, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. His mind wandered a little, flirted with memory as his fingers searched out tender spots.

"Mmm-hmm." Jack couldn't tell if Daniel meant to encourage him to continue to talk or to rub. After a moment, he twisted a little beneath Jack, trying to look back over his shoulder again. "Are you going to ask me?"

Jack's hands slowed, his touch gentling. His fingertips ghosted down the center of Daniel's back, along his spine, and Daniel's eyes closed briefly. "Ask you what?"

"How many." When Daniel set one hand flat on the mattress, Jack rose up on his knees. He turned over onto his back, and Jack settled down on Daniel's thighs again. 

"No. Unless you want to tell me." Unsure which way to go with this, Jack let his hands rest, palms down, on own thighs, and watched Daniel watching him.

"I do." 

Jack waited for him to continue; instead, Daniel reached up and took one of Jack's hands in his, massaging it, circling his thumbs against Jack's palm and kneading the back with his fingers. Jack waited, then tilted his head and raised an encouraging eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"Oh, you know. A few." Daniel smiled up at him as he pulled Jack's hand to his chest, then reached up over his head with both hands and wrapped his long fingers around the headboard's rails.

Smart-assed, hedonistic pain in the butt. "Okay." Jack fought the urge to tickle as he stroked Daniel's chest with both hands, smoothing up across his ribs to his pectorals and down again. Daniel's stomach hollowed under Jack's touch, and he sighed and closed his eyes.

If one wanted to, allowed it, one could become overwhelmed by memory, could fill the quiet spaces between words with thoughts of 'what if' and 'why,' recalculations of the possibilities and improbabilities that had led to his being here, sitting on Daniel's legs in a darkened bedroom, sliding his hands over his body. Better, though, to just feel; the ticklish slip of a drop of sweat down his back, the differences in texture between his callused palms and the soft skin of Daniel's belly, the assurance that, whatever came next, moments like this one helped to silence the what ifs and the whys.

Daniel licked his lips and cleared his throat, not drifting off to sleep as Jack had thought. "One of us should have gone with her."

Of course Daniel would bracket Sam's absence with this same argument, would make an issue of it again on the night she was coming home. Should be coming home. Jack shook his head. "She's been taking care of herself for a lot longer than we've known her. They didn't need us."

Daniel's eyes were open, now, his gaze wandering its way slowly down Jack's body. One eyebrow rose, questioning without words as he slid a hand over Jack's bent knee, his thumb pressing gently into the kneecap. He was right; Jack had been sitting this way for too long, and his knees were starting to protest. Easing himself to one side, he shifted and straightened his legs slowly, letting Daniel pull him down to lie almost on top of him. 

"I think maybe we need her more than she needs us." Daniel's fingernails traced slow, intensely satisfying trails across Jack's back.

"That's not true." He raised his head and looked down at Daniel, who looked thoughtfully back up at him. 

Daniel shrugged. "I mean, aside from the fact that we three may be the only ones left who know all we know. If people knew--"

They weren't going to start this again. Jack shook his head and frowned. "That sort of thinking doesn't do us any good. We agreed to stop talking about it." 

"Yeah, well." Daniel's fingertips were warm and gentle on Jack's jaw, the callused pads catching a little on stubble. "It's that kind of night."

Jack leaned into the touch like a cat, his eyes half-closed. "Doesn't have to be." 

"Show me." A slow grin spread across Daniel's face as he guided Jack's hand down the front of his boxers. 

The really great thing about Daniel in bed was how sensual he was, how whole-heartedly he responded to touch. It was one reason why Jack enjoyed touching him so much--his responsiveness, the way he sighed and moaned and licked his lips, how he'd try to reciprocate but lose track of what he was doing, confused and distracted by pleasure. When he was near him, even in public, sometimes, Jack could be tempted by the desire to touch him, to strum and pluck at him like a guitar, just to hear and feel what his touch would do. He was an attractive nuisance, Daniel was, in every possible way.

When Daniel started to gasp, Jack pushed the boxers down over his thighs, the thin fabric clinging and dragging on sweat-dampened skin, then went back to stroking him roughly. Daniel's neck tasted like salt and aftershave--he'd shaved for Carter's homecoming, though Jack hadn't, too superstitious to allow himself to live at that level of expectation. 

Daniel's hands traveled restlessly over Jack's body, his nails leaving hot trails, now, skating across his skin, down to the edge of Jack's boxers and up again. He was outside of himself, flying on autopilot as he gave control up to Jack's hands, Jack's mouth. 

Afterwards, if Daniel still couldn't sleep, Jack would ask him to take him into his mouth, to take him slowly, make it last. It wasn't a night for talking, either.

***


End file.
